It's Life Seeker, But Not As We Know It
by ChampionTheWonderSnail
Summary: Spending most of one's life sequestered from the public tends to make the Big Wide World feel exactly as advertised. Mundane snippets in the life of the Inquisitor (with some spoilers for game).
1. The Beginning of the End

Chapter 1

The Beginning of the End of the Beginning

Things were trying to kill her. This was not a surprise, not that - in theory – she had a problem with surprises _per _(as they liked to say in parts of Tevinter) _se_. Up to certain points in her life Audria Trevelyan would have welcomed the odd surprise, rejoiced even. A well-timed surprise broke up the tedium of droning lectures delivered by senior mages who would clearly have loved to have been anywhere else but standing in front of a group of eager-eyed students with the potential for searing one's eyebrows off during a burst of unexpected adolescent hormones. Or, turn an otherwise plodding exercise hour into one requiring a hasty sprint from the epicentre of a sudden and (perhaps not) unforeseen explosion of a flaming ball of excitement caused by an unwary (and quite frequently, the same) apprentice. Surprises such as 'huzzah, we haven't forgotten your name day after all, we've baked you a cake' and naked Templars jumping out of said cake. Those were the kind of surprises she'd been familiar with. Except for the one about the naked Templars jumping out of the cake. Naked Templars in her experience were fairly rare and not particularly prone to wandering about naked or otherwise, much to her disappointment.

The rarity of the Naked Templar in fact, had given rise to a particularly stubborn hypothesis of hers that Templars were not _trained, _but materialised fully-clothed out of the Fade. Furthermore, Audria was convinced that the older the Templar, the more layered he (or she) became, much like the rings of bark laid on by trees. Somewhere out there were homes for very elderly Templars who had – over the course of their service – built up so many layers of sturdy purple cloth, chain mail and heavy plate that they could no longer move at all and resembled an elongated, immobile metal mountain. Like those stone obelisks people thought the ancients had erected to chart the seasons and lunar cycles.

_Hmm. _Was it any coincidence that many Chantries across Thedas were built near standing stones? That mightn't have been a tribute to the ingenuity of an Alamarri or clever Avvar folks! That'd be a fossilised Templar, _circa 1:3 Divine_.

If the prospect of potential naked Templars in her future (or, let's face it, lack thereof) were weighing heavily on Audria's mind right now, it was because she needed something to take her mind off the other prospect of being skewered on the end of what appeared to be some kind of glowing, electrified whip wielded by a pride demon. A vision that was giving rise to some fairly inappropriate and wholly unwanted thoughts about the shonky practices of Fade denizens in general.

_Really, pride demon? Did you leave the leather thong and fluffy handcuffs back in the Fade?_

"Watch out!"

She did and found herself flying several feet above the ground in a majestic arc that would have completed a full circle if the statue of Andraste hadn't spoiled her artistic trajectory. The wind knocked out of her lungs, Audria tumbled head over knees over Andraste's outstretched arm, bounced briefly in a thankfully empty flame bowl before succumbing again to gravity. At least, Audria reflected sourly, the ground was well-padded with…well, ground.

Rough hands hoisted her to her feet; a position she was not particularly happy in but remained nevertheless. The eyeroll from the armour-clad Battle Princess brought out the spine in Audria where the pride demon's B and D whip did not.

"I did say to watch out," Battle Princess Seeker grunted at her in acute disapproval before diving back into the fray. Perhaps Chantry types were like that; even more oppressed than sequestered mages, who knew?

Audria would have curled her lip, except she was pretty sure the statue of Andraste had broken it. It was all very well for someone with a flaming eye on their breast plate to say 'look out' and expect them to know _exactly _what it meant, wasn't it? Mages in general weren't taught to tuck, dive and roll in a way that one, actually took them out of harm's way; two, perform such a feat without rupturing all of one's internal organs and three, well there was no three, but given enough time and far less demons she was sure she could think of something.

All of this was very well. _Blimey that's a bloody screaming terror demon! You don't see one of those every day!_

There were three.

_Tuck. Dive…_"Ow, ow, bloody ow!"

"Might help if you ran in the right direction, Mage!"

_That _was a dwarf. _The_ dwarf. Author of Thedas' most well-read serial crime novel since Lady Boudoir's Collected Bedtime Stories for the Discerning Octagenarian. Not writing now clearly, because it turned out Varric Tethras wasn't just an author. He was a cross-bow wielding dwarven warrior thingie merchant prince – "Wrong way again, Mage!" – sarcastic bastard.

_Is he laughing at me? He's laughing at me!_

"Oh for the love of the Creators…"

She didn't know who that was. There had been introductions and hand grabbing and they'd only just been introduced and the baldy who was admittedly damned cute in a 'don't look at me human or I'll stab both your eyes out with your _shemlen _feet' way, but still…Salty. His name was Salty?

"Yaargh!"

She was getting the hang of this flying through the air thing. It was the landing on an already-bruised part of her body that Audria was really having trouble coming to terms with.

"Now! Close the Breach!"

_Uhh…_Her hand went up. She felt enormously silly doing it, but Audria did it anyway. It was expected of her and Maker help her if she willingly let another bloody demon through. What kind of a strategy was that anyway? Run to hole in the Fade. Throw mage at demons until all gone. Rinse, repeat, hi-five hole in sky. Yay, demons begone! Unlike the other ones this breach in the Fade closed with an almighty blast of energy that sent her tumbling backward – airborne yet again – feet over head over knees over dwarf over another statue into wall.

Dimly aware of a roaring sound in her ears, Audria lay curled up in a ball of bruised and bloodied flesh until the Battle Princess Seeker hauled her once more to her feet. This time however, the woman was smiling as wide as the eye on her breast plate.

"I did good?" Audria mumbled, head swimming, blinking blood out of her eyes. "Yay for me…" After which statement she welcomed a blissful state of unconsciousness that required very little effort on her part. And all of this, her slumbering consciousness reminded her, because she had been in the right place at the wrong time…

-oo-

_Sometime previously in Thedas…_

Someone with a very long title in a Circle far, far away had decided there would be no more Circles. Down with the oppressive Oppressors! Boo! Hiss! The first time Audria Trevelyan had heard anything about it, had been during bacon-time. She'd slept in – an act punishable by privy cleaning with a toothbrush and chalk stick – and had therefore arrived late to the dining hall well after the bulk of the apprentices and harrowed mages had left. Tamara had saved her a pile of greasy bacon because Tamara had a _thing _about bowels and digestion but as it was a hang-up that worked entirely in Audria's favour, she was quite happy to promote the all grains-and-herbs fad her best friend practised.

The bacon had been lovely and streaky with enough burnt, blackened bits to bring a tear to her eye and a crunch in her teeth resulting in an amount of toughened overcooked meat to lodge in her rear molars that would last her at least through morning prayers. She was busily wiping the last of the congealed dripping from her plate with the remains of a bread roll when Tamara bounced back into the meal hall with the news that the Circles no longer existed.

"What do you mean 'doesn't exist'?" Audria had demanded. "I'm sitting in one right now!"

"Don't be foolish," Tamara had corrected her, adding; "And obtuse on purpose. The Circles exist – as you know – on levels other than the physical."

What followed had been a lengthy and breathless account of the goings on in some city that had previously been described to Audria as a 'place populated by a lot of dead people'. To say it had come as a shock was an understatement. Audria had sat speechless on the wooden bench, her bread, dripping and bacon forgotten as the consequences of a vote _she hadn't participated in _penetrated the layers of hastily erected denial. At the end of Tamara's well-constructed and detailed explanations of the politics behind such a decision to disband the Circles of Magi across the length and breadth of Thedas that wasn't Tevinter, all she could manage was a whimpered: "What, no more bacon time?"

For many, the Circle had been their only home. Not everyone had the kind of family the way old furniture had wood worm like the Trevelyans and few were willing to harbour children with magical abilities which meant…_Maker, if the Circles don't exist that makes me an apostate. A. P. O. S. T. A. T. E._ She hadn't just trained for ten years of her life to be an apostate, survived a harrowing Harrowing by the skin of her proverbials to end up an apostate. Apostasy happened to other people. Not her. She'd hunkered down and studied, been good. Mostly. Hardly ever thought about the Templars naked and running through the chapel during vespers and that one drawing on the back of the statue of Andraste in the little chapel had most definitely _not _been her. She'd only suggested that one. Who could have predicted some bright spark would actually do it?

The thing was. The thing was, where would they go? Where would any of them go? It would have been easier if the local villagers came by one day and deconstructed the college stone by stone until all the mages were left standing out in the open wondering where the stairs to the good library had gone. It was…how could anyone make a decision like that? And then expect mages who didn't want to leave to make do? Mages who had no money. All those little apprentices – children some of them – who'd look after them, especially the ones who'd been thrown out of their families, promised protection? As if the general public weren't already leery of mages _outside, _some Grand Enchanter makes it so all the mages everywhere got to be among normal, magic-fearing people. Outside.

Audria had summoned up enough energy to extend her arm. "Pinch me Tam."

"Why?"

"Because I'm hoping it'll wake me up from this horrible dream."

Except it wasn't a dream. It was real but it was alright Tamara had told her, because the Divine had called a meeting of the most senior mages, Templars and Chantry folk to presumably thrash out some kind of agreement.

As if one hadn't existed previously. A perfectly good one in her opinion that let her lead a quiet life in a tower somewhere with enough books and bacon to see her through until death.

Under this new not-quite-arrangement arrangement, she'd be lucky if she lived to see dinner.

Still, Audria's curiosity had been piqued. She'd travelled with the others to Ferelden, Home of the Fifth Blight, birthplace of the Champion of Kirkwall and allegedly the last resting place of the Prophet Andraste's ashes, amongst many other colourful and historically riveting tourist spots. Haven was one of them; a mountainous, bone-chillingly cold collection of new and the ruined with a disturbingly dark past. The mages' billet still had the blood stains in the mortar and for a place that was associated with The Prophet and her followers, it had had an even more disturbingly large number of 'altars' peppered about the place that did not look particularly…flower friendly.

The Temple where the meeting was to take place was located high up the side of the many mountains that grew here like mushrooms on a rotting corpse. She'd been told there was great beauty to be found here, but all Audria could find were swathes of icy, muddy slush that left her feet and ankles permanently frozen, jostling crowds, pick-pockets, glaring Templars, sneering senior enchanters and haughty clerics all overlaid by the pervasive smell of wet dog.

The meeting itself had consisted of a series of long-winded speeches by people with very large hats and by the time the umpteenth speaker had taken the podium, the bacon sandwich and tea Audria had bolted down so as not to miss the wonderfully enlightening lectures in the main hall was beginning to prove Tamara's theories about the indigestibility of meat products entirely wrong. Clutching at her spasming guts, she'd excused herself and gone looking for the privy.

Temples dedicated to Andraste, Audria found also, were not known for their stylishly appointed wet facilities and by the time she'd crossed one passage to another, gone down several dark and narrow openings in stone, stumbled over a pile of ancient skeletons and tripped down a set of broken stairs, she was so desperate to relieve herself of the bacon sandwich and cup of tea that the pile of skeletons several passageways ago was beginning to look like her best option. If she could find them again. Which she did not. More urgent wanderings later Audria found herself inexplicably waking up in a dungeon smelling of cat pee and wet dog with people shouting at her. Her hands were fastened tight, her ankles encased in metal trailing thick chains and her right palm felt as though it had been turned through a meat dicer, turned into sausage, fed to a family of starving wolves then regurgitated back into flesh. Days had passed without her noticing. Somehow.

More concerning than the accusations being levelled at her by the shouting people that she'd single-handedly killed the Divine, destroyed an ancient religiously-important old temple and thousands of people in it, Audria was pretty sure she hadn't found that privy. Would it be too late to suggest installing one, she wondered?

-oo-


	2. Friends Will be Friends

**Chapter 2 – Friends Will Be Friends**

_Life…_Audria hummed to herself as she crossed from Flissa's tavern towards the Chantry building. _Don't talk to me about life…One minute you're some…happy nobody, the next people are saying 'hail! Our sort-of-hero! Now get cracking and save the world for us!'_

And we want it done yesterday!

Now there was a horde of people wanting _her _to pull them out of whatever deep, muddy hole they'd found themselves in. Mages? First, they voted for freedom and the right not to be taken away from polite society and shoved into a stone tower somewhere in the middle of nowhere where they couldn't harm anyone. _Then _they wonder why they didn't have a home anymore and no one wanted them anywhere near polite society where they could harm anyone.

As for the Templars…? Well, Audria sighed. No one wanted them either and…her shoulders stiffened and her gut twisted at the other thought; what about all the young apprentices and the old Templars? What about _them_? Little Hanifa from the Alienage who'd been so scared she'd burned down her own house and old Ser Astley who'd been taking lyrium so long he couldn't tell his right foot from his left and drooled on himself? What about all the Tranquil? They hadn't gotten a vote. The folk in the White Spire and Cumberland hadn't given a monkey's bottom about them. They weren't even considered _people _anymore.

She'd heard about that mage in Kirkwall who was all 'Oh, I don't like being locked up, so I'll just blow everyone up and _that'll _make things better' yay! Huh and the mages in Redcliffe feel _threatened_ now? They were only given sanctuary by the bloody Queen of Ferelden. _Sorry,_ Audria corrected herself. _Her Majesty the bloody Queen of Ferelden, _because she was grateful really that anyone had taken pity on the mages and given them someplace to _be, _despite the fact they'd had it easy and were acting like a bunch of spoiled brats who'd realised personal responsibility wasn't what it was cracked up to be.

_Ugh…and I'm supposed to be one of them._

They want _me, _a…M. A. G. E to take responsibility for _everything _and fix it all; the hole in the sky, every little war and spat and conflict going around and _then _make things better. Shiny. With rainbows and bunnies and singing Chantry sisters making clothes out of curtains for orphans.

Audria shrugged. Sure…not a problem. Of _course_ she'll fix things for everybody because she knew exactly how. Instinctively. Practically came with a manual. Only, just take a number and join the queue because she had to fix the other problems first; like Ferelden's sudden outbreak of bandits, Orlais getting bored trying to invade everyone else and deciding to declare war with itself and the Chantry developing an acute obsession with its belly button.

And I'll do it all before breakfast.

_Psht…_

Breakfast. She hadn't had breakfast. There'd been bacon…eggs and porridge all lumpy and served with butter like she used to have back at the Circle. She'd seen it. She'd smelled it but had she eaten any of it? Well no because Chancellor Roderick had been doing his one-man angry horde impersonation with optional flaming torches and sharpened pitchforks and that would have been fine because no one actually paid any attention to the man…Except for Commander Cullen who appeared to have taken on the role of Inquisition Cheerleader. While Audria had absolutely _no problem _whatsoever with the Commander donning a pair of tightie tights and waving a chicken bladder, she _did _have a problem with being dragged along to be all Herald-ish at everyone fighting about whose fault it was the sun rose and set every day.

So. Nope. No breakfast.

_I snacked on impromptu diplomacy and feasted on problem solving and now I can't fit a single thing in._

_Now_ it was way after lunch and it had been pure luck that Flissa hadn't moved all of her pea and ham soup so Audria had grabbed a great big bowl of tasty, tasty green, gelatinous goo, coagulating appetisingly in the pot. It didn't matter that the bottom had burned and the soup had the taste of charcoal running through it. She was fine with the floating blackened chips of burned pea. As far as she was concerned they represented oases of calm in a sea of tranquillity.

"It was them that did it! They killed the Divine!"

"Us? It was _you _that failed to protect her!"

"From _you_!"

Audria might have flinched, but it was nothing to the howls of agony as several people unexpectedly found their nether regions frozen solid. She hurried past, eyes darting about for a likely place of quiet solitude. Also because she needed to get away from the scene of the crime before people started pointing fingers in her general direction.

Stepping quickly through the doors of the Chantry and nudging them closed with her heel, she began edging her way cautiously along the wall. On either side of the main hall were narrow, dim alcoves currently serving as storage for some of the Inquisition's supplies. Those sacks would make a handy table, seat and hiding place. Chuckling softly at her cleverness, Audria stepped over a couple of sacks and wiggled in between another two. Dipping her spoon into the bowl, she'd been about to swallow a mouthful of soup that was both horrible and bliss when the doors to the 'war room' opened at the other end of the hall.

She choked, spluttered, quickly tamping down the noise in case whoever was approaching heard her. And she couldn't have _that. _

"We could ask the Herald."

A shadow fell over her, followed by the Seeker's stern countenance. Cassandra in turn had been about to speak more but was interrupted by the Chantry doors opening again, admitting the bustling form of the Commander, bustling only as he could bustle, which was a lot of bustle for someone with practically no bottom at all.

"Herald!" He made a beeline for Audria's corner. "While I applaud your…ability to resolve arguments, I really don't think...that freezing of…When you…"

He was cute really, Audria thought - spoon half way to her mouth - when he blushed like that. If she had an egg or two, she could crack them on his forehead and fry them.

_Tell you what, I could go for a fried egg on Templar - I mean toast - right now…_

"They're called 'privates', if you require a more delicate term."

_What am I? _Audria rolled her eyes. _A public exhibit? _The Seeker and Commander had now been joined by the Tevinter mage with the fabulous hair. All of them looming and blocking out any light she would have had to eat safely by.

She sighed; knowing defeat when it poked her in the eye with a sharp stick, swirled around the gooey bits and roasted the contents over a fire. Audria stood up, bowl still cradled against her middle, her spoon held protectively over the gluggy contents of said bowl. Visions of lunch fought briefly against the combined stare of her audience and waved a white handkerchief in surrender.

"Yes," Dorian wiggled his eyebrows at her. "We are all staring at you, in case you're wondering. Makes a warm and fuzzy change from trying to stop the world from blowing itself to pieces."

Audria wrinkled her nose at the other mage. His comments weren't helping soothe either the Seeker's impatience nor the Commander's ire. She dropped the spoon into her bowl. It fell with a greasy splat, sending a miniature explosion of cold pea and ham soup over her hand and clothes.

When she looked up, she realised the explosion had reached the Commander's shiny breastplate. A single, moist split pea had attached itself to just below a rivet and was now succumbing to gravity by slow millimetres, leaving a trail of greasy soup. Completely oblivious, the Commander leaned forward slightly and the pea lost suction, falling with the tiniest plopping sound into the folds of his not-Templar set of shoulder curtains.

The Seeker had just opened her mouth to speak when Audria spoke, pointing. "An escape pea," she stated.

Helpfully.

In case anyone asked.

Which they didn't.

Cassandra's forehead wrinkled; tiny waves of confused displeasure rippling above her eyebrows.

"I beg your pardon Herald?" It was the Commander who spoke, however.

"Oh…nothing, nothing," Audria waved her spoon airily. _Splat, splat, splat._ Gobs of soup flying off her spoon spattered first a buckle on the Commander's armour, another buried itself in amongst the feathers of his…whatever and finally landed on the Commander's chiselled, perfectly dimpled, slightly stubbled chin.

"I…forgive…you…?" Audria ventured because at this point she had absolutely nothing to gain.

The Commander blinked at her. "That wasn't what I-"

"No, no, no," Audria held up a calming hand; the one still holding the spoon, causing the Seeker to sway backwards strategically. Smacking her soup deliberately with her spoon-now-weapon, Audria was determined to make her _point_. _Yeah. I'm hungry. You fellows all look perfectly fed to me. Do you think I might get just five bloody minutes to eat an overcooked bowl of soup before I fell over? Is that alright? Really? _Dribs, drabs and splatters of the contents of her bowl flew in all directions, becoming increasingly more frequent and widespread.

"It's perfectly fine, Commander," Audria continued; noting Seeker Pentaghast's surreptitious shuffle backwards. The Commander on the other hand merely stood his ground, arms raised uselessly in defence. It only meant more of him got covered in cold pea and ham soup. After several more moments of being splashed with soup and worse; being snickered at by the Tevinter mage, he gave up and took a step backwards. Audria watched him clear the space between them with more than a little satisfaction. One, it gave her a better view of him and two, he was no longer breathing down her neck.

As it were.

Frankly, she wouldn't mind it at all if the Commander breathed down her neck. She could bet he'd be pretty good at it too.

Just. Not. Now.

_Ugh._ _What does it take?_

"What Commander Cullen meant, I'm sure…" the Seeker began and paused. She turned to Cullen. "What _did_ you mean?"

The Commander's neck turned a very noticeable dark pink. "I uh…"

"He was about to say…" Dorian prompted helpfully.

"Give peas a chance!" Audria completed the sentence for him, waggling a refilled spoon for the benefit of all.

She could almost hear it; the pin drop sound of her point finally falling into the place in Commander Cullen's brain that she'd been assaulting for the last few minutes while she'd been attacking his always-clean uniform…tiny cogwheels began to turn where before they had been frozen immoveable. He _looked, _actually looked at the bowl in her hand and for added effect, Audria's stomach gave a long, loud, hungry rumble that echoed miserably through the Chantry hall.

"We'll uh…" the Commander began uncertainly, causing Audria to feel a twinge of disappointment. She'd had such high hopes for him too.

"Why don't we let the Herald finish her lunch and…"

_Oh good boy! _Prior disappointment gave way to a swell of pride. Of course it could be that dreaded bloated feeling from hunger being mistaken for pride, Audria told herself. Anything was possible at this point.

"I'll…" The Commander looked down at the mess of his uniform. "Go and…" He flicked the barest of glances at Audria, grimacing. "…bathe."

He backed away. Meanwhile Audria gave herself a satisfied nod. _Now, to…_

"Herald, now that I have your attention…"

Standing behind the Seeker, the Tevinter groaned, dropping his head into a manicured, elegant hand.

Pursing her lips, Audria stepped over the sacks, violently smashing her spoon into the remains of her soup. "_Yes_, Seeker? You needed me for something?" Soup sploshed across the Seeker's armour. Cassandra stepped back hastily, but not quick enough and pressing her advantage, Audria followed her, backing the taller woman into a pew.

"Ugh, I…_alright _Herald, I will leave you to your…" Cassandra fled to the back of the Chantry so fast, she left a scorch mark on the floor runner.

"Well now…" Dorian's cheerful voice chirped in the wake of the Seeker, "If the enemy ever finds out that all you need to defeat our resident warrior queen is a bowl of porridge, the Inquisition is finished."

There was no reply from the Herald. Bottom lip wobbling, she was gazing forlornly at the contents of her bowl. Or, more accurately, where the contents of her bowl _used _to be. It had been a big bowl, but there was now barely a smear of soup in the bottom. She looked up, finally, eyes reddened and stomach grumbling even more loudly than before. One meal, her bottom lip wibbled. _Was that too much to ask? _Just the one? At this stage, she was so hungry she could eat a Qunari whole never mind that the one she had was likely to be a touch leathery.

_One meal! A sandwich! Anything!_

It was at this point that a plate appeared before her eyes. Wreathed in divine light (or it could have been the sunlight coming in from the open Chantry door), and sitting glowing golden across it was a crusty roll stuffed with thick slices of fried black pudding, ham, melted cheese and what may or may not have been a slice of tomato that may or may not have been in the presence of a lettuce leaf. At some time in its short life…and as Audria gripped the plate gratefully – skipping over giving it (and Dorian) a grateful hug – the Tevinter patted her on the head.

"Can't have our resident saviour falling over from hunger while trying to save the world, now can we?"

Audria sniffed and continued to inhale the sandwich speechlessly.

_No. No we can't…and by the way Tevinter, _she told him wordlessly because her mouth was a tad busy at the moment to speak. _I'm totally saving your bit of the world _first.

-oo-


	3. Fool's Gold

**Chapter 3 – Fool's Gold**

"And what would be the terms of this…arrangement?"

There appeared to be something in Audria's eye. It would explain the rapid blinking, light strobing across her eyeballs making her dizzy and slightly nauseous. The ground appeared to be rising up, threatening to hit her squarely in the face.

Or.

All those symptoms might be due to the sheer rage coursing through her veins as the Grand Enchanter's words entered her ear and then bounced back and forth between the inside of her skull and her tired brain.

Just a thought.

Audria took a simple, single breath, about-faced and began walking towards the door.

"Uhh…Herald?" Varric's voice followed her progress.

"Keep up Fuzzball!" Audria called briefly over her shoulder. "If we walk fast, we should be able to reach Therinfal Redoubt by tomorrow morning."

"Therinfal…" Cassandra began. "But, Herald!"

The doors slamming after Audria was not loud enough, so she turned, and pulled them closed with both fists so hard, the frame rattled. They immediately opened again, yanking the mage off her feet and smashing her nose painfully into the Seeker's emblem of holy flaming eye.

"Herald!" the Seeker was frowning. Audria did not need to see the woman's face. Cassandra could convey a frown without moving a single facial muscle. It was quite a talent.

"What do you mean, 'go to Therinfal Redoubt'?" she asked. "After coming all this way to meet the mages?"

Her nose was bleeding; coldness slid down from Audria's right nostril, over the edge of her lip to fall on her chin. She could smell and taste blood, but the pain was good. Pain was…after all they had been through. All they had _seen…red lyrium growing out in spikes from the Grand Enchanter's aged body, adhering her to the dungeon walls as everywhere lay the stench of rotting corpses…foul, greasy water reeking of excrement and death seeping through the eyelets in her boots and wicking up her socks…a single arm; flesh torn from bone hanging from a rusted chain in the ceiling…her companions falling one by one…they'd dragged what had remained of Varric into the hall, a demon carelessly kicking the man's head across the bloodied stone…_

She'd seen it all. She'd felt it all. That_…monster_ had done it, never mind that he'd done it to save his son. Trying to cure a child by destroying the world the child lived in. What kind of logic was that? And _her. She'd_ let him do it. Grand Enchanter Fiona. No choice? No bloody choice? That was all she thought she needed to explain it all away?

"Herald."

Audria lifted her head, the Grand Enchanter visible just behind Cassandra's shoulder and behind that, the Tevinter Magister hanging limply between two Inquisition soldiers. For a moment Audria thought she too had been overcome, infected by the red lyrium _from her future _by the wash of scarlet across her vision.

No.

The rage had to speak.

It needed a voice. It needed to be heard.

Shouldering Cassandra aside, Audria stepped back through the Chantry doors, bringing herself before Grand Enchanter Fiona in quick, angry strides.

"What are the terms of the arrangement?" Audria repeated, each word bitten off between her teeth. "You tell me _Grand Enchanter. _Tell me what arrangements you would _like._"

The former Grey Warden turned Grand Enchanter seemed taken aback at first, but rallied quickly. "Well of course-"

"The same kind of arrangements you set up with that…_Tevinter – _sorry Dorian, no offence-" Audria interrupted harshly.

"Oh none taken, dear Herald. None taken."

"- To enslave every mage you should have protected?" Audria continued without a skip in speech. "The same kind of arrangement you had for every young apprentice you made homeless when you decided to _dissolve _the Circles? The same kind of arrangement you had for every elderly mage too old to cast a useful spell? The same one for every Tranquil across Thedas because it was too difficult to give a damn about someone who'd had their personality removed?"

"We had no choice, Herald!" Fiona all but screamed at her.

"No choice, no choice, no choice!" With every word Audria stepped closer until she was nose to bloodied nose with the older mage. "After being given sanctuary by this country, you not only bite the hand that feeds you, you tear it off completely, crap out the bits you don't want then lift your leg on the whole lot and _piss_ on it? What _choice _did the Arl and his family have when you and your _Alliance _stole his village and lands? What _choice _did these villagers have when you showed them all how _trustworthy _mages are and kicked them out of their homes?

"Do not speak to me of choice, Grand Enchanter," Audria gritted, fighting a sudden urge to vomit. "And I'll not speak of terms of any arrangements to _you_ or anyone else here because I've changed my mind."

Audria stepped back, breathing hard and clutching at her guts because she really was going to throw up; salty saliva pooling at the back of her mouth. The Grand Enchanter looked even more surprised than previously, but not as much as Audria's companions appeared to be.

"I don't need you," Audria told the senior mage, swallowing hard. "I don't want you."

Grand Enchanter Fiona's mouth opened. Audria could _see _it in the other woman's eyes: _but we have nowhere to go…_

"But, Herald..."

"There. Is. A. Hole. In. The. Flippin'. Sky," Audria hissed. "With demons pouring out of it," she added with another – emergency - swallow. "Not soft cushions and free cocktails on the hour every hour for every…sodding…mage."

Jerking her head back, she spat: "Goodbye."

Another sharp turn had Audria facing the exit once more. She wobbled unsteadily but hastily towards it, shot out through the doors, rounded the corner of the Chantry building and managed to make it as far as the Sisters' vegetable patch in time to empty the scant contents of her stomach in as explosive a manner as was involuntarily possible. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, Audria leaned her head against Chantry wall. Cool and gritty and musty with age and the frequent rainy weather of Ferelden, the sensation was a balm to her throbbing head.

Even the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her did not cause Audria to remove her forehead and that someone patting her awkwardly on her back did not either.

"The Templars have already heard of the Inquisition's decision to approach the mages," Cassandra reminded her softly after a while. "It is likely they will not speak to us."

Audria closed her eyes.

"I know," she sighed.

"Then…"

Audria turned slowly, leaning her shoulders against the stone and shivering despite the sun bearing down on her face.

"We return to Haven," Audria told the warrior. "And prepare as best we can."

"But without either the Mages _or _the Templars…" Cassandra's eyes narrowed as her sentence ended abruptly. She folded her arms and regarded the Herald with a keen look. "You have a plan," she stated.

"Nope," Audria said, the 'p' making a popping noise as she spoke it. "No plan."

"But-"

"If the mages _choose _to follow and _choose _to help the Inquisition to close the Breach," Audria said with a shrug, launching herself from the wall. "Then well…it'll be their _choice_, won't it?"

Pushing her hair irritably off her face, she inhaled deeply and cast her gaze towards the long stretch of dock and abandoned boats beside the waters of Lake Calenhad. "But first I need to light a pyre."

"A pyre?" Cassandra exclaimed. "What for?"

Audria had already begun to move past the Seeker. She paused, looking down at her feet. "For the Tranquil," she explained. "Sera found them in a locked warehouse down by the docks. Skulls really; about a hundred of them, along with documentation detailing how the Tevinter were - are - turning them into some kind of seeing-device…Huh." She snorted, lifting her face to the sun. "All these mages and they want to know what they can get from the Inquisition. One Tranquil and all he wanted was to be able to help _us_. Clemence, his name is. Was very keen to join." She turned to Cassandra. "What does that tell you?"

Cassandra scowled. "It tells me the Tevinter are as monstrous as we thought."

Ignoring the Seeker's statement, Audria continued her way down the path. "It tells _me _the Tranquil had no _choice_, Seeker."

-oo-


	4. Things Can Only Get Better

**Chapter 4 – Things Can Only Get Better**

_I'm going to die._

Miniature cyclones of snow and sleet appeared to have taken up temporary residence around legs already so numbed with cold that the term 'walking' no longer applied. Moving involved violently throwing her lower limbs forward from the hip, her arms punching the air; a strategy that made her look as though she were attempting to swim through the snow piling up about her in layering drifts that fought her at every hurl of a foot, every pitch of a cold-locked knee. Slow progress though it was, it was still better than simply staying in one spot and giving up; giving in. It was her at war with the elements. The might of the human will pitted against nature.

_First I'm going to be turned into a mage-sicle and _then _I'm going to die._

Audria had tried to look on the bright side. No, really. If there ever had been a bright side to freezing to death on her own in the middle of nowhere she had gone there, decided the food was bad and the service worse and come straight back home. At least she could say she had _tried_. Her teeth had stopped chattering ages ago but that was only because her jaw had frozen into a grimace of abject misery. How many times had her mother warned her that if she made _that _face, and the wind blew the wrong way, it would _stay _that way?

_Well, mother dearest you'll be happy to know – when archaeologists unearth my body hundreds of years from now – that you were right. Yes. My face has frozen in _that _expression._

_The one you warned me would never catch a husband._

_Bah_.

She was more likely to catch the attention of a pack of ravenous wolves first, if those eerie howls were any indication.

_Hah_.

_Good luck to them! _Audria thought as a dark shape slunk from behind one tree trunk to another in the deep, not too distant half-dark.

_Hope you like gnawing on frozen mage, _you overgrown _Werepuppies! _

She attempted to curl her hand into a fist but the most she could manage was a slight finger twitch and a flicker of sickly green; almost as if the Mark had gone into hibernation. Mark of the Herald huh? Proof the Maker existed and He was watching over them all and not – as some believed – gone to the godly equivalent of a retirement home for the mighty and omnipotent (or as she preferred to think; batty and incontinent).

_Fzzt…shhhshshsh…_the Mark died out altogether, plunging her into snow-swirling darkness.

That was okay, Audria told herself philosophically. It wasn't as if the thing wasn't entitled to a holiday from time to time. Heck, no one wanted to spend all day every day destroying demons. Saving the world and stuff. Willy nilly. Psht. Folk had better things to do…wash their hair, take their goldfish for a walk. Die by demon…

"_Not freeze to death, dam…mit!"_

Her foot snagged on something concealed beneath the icy layers, pitching her face-first into a snow bank. Eyeballs could feel cold she discovered, desperately trying not to think about how _warm _the Free Marches were at this time of the year.

But she did.

Give up? It wasn't an option. Nuh uh. Not in this life time or the next…She hadn't just fought waves of red lyrium-crazed Templars, a foul-smelling megalomaniac claiming to be an ancient darkspawn and his pet dragon to lie here in the snow with her eyeballs slowly turning solid while waving a white flag.

One, she didn't have a flag conveniently to hand. Two, she was too Maker-damned frozen to wave anything, much less a _bloody flag._

Three?

The _look _the Commander had given her when Chancellor Roderick had suggested evacuating Haven's survivors through the mountain path was worth No Giving Up.

_Damn. I'm going to die before I get to see what colour underwear Cullen wears._

"Son of a tainted Bronto bottom, damn you, universe!" she attempted to yell but it came out muffled through stiffened, cracked lips so it sounded like the far less poisonous statement; '_snfamngrr bromgnrom!' _

It was that _look _that had changed her mind on following the other survivors up the summer path after all and stay behind. That _look _had been enough to cause her to raise her hand when the question 'Anyone feeling particularly, stupidly heroic today?' came up. That same _look_ had kept the fires burning when Odiferous Corypheus and Mr Spiky had landed between her and Commander Cullen's underpants with one of the longest and most boring bad guy monologues she'd come across so far. The time-travelling Tevinter? _He_ knew how to monologue. Sonny boy Korth in the Fallow Mire? That was some classy monologuing right there. A deep booming voice and maniacal laugh? Yep, she'd scored that pretty high. At least a seven and a half.

_I have seen the throne of the gods and it was empty?_

What? Did the secretary to the Maker and his minions forget to tell Corphy they were Out of Office?

Heck, it was worth the avalanche just to shut the…thing up. What was he anyway and holy Maker she wasn't going to get the smell out any time soon.

And she thought darkspawn smelled bad on the outside…

Yeah. They smelled like that after stewing over a pile of bitter herbs and a pot of simmering bile for a few thousand years or so.

That was _if _she believed the putrid, stinking pile of lame insults. Which she _so _wasn't. She had other things on her mind.

_White. _Uh-huh. The Commander definitely looked like a white underpants kind of guy. Practical. Conservative. No nonsense. Yet damned sexy. Like a librarian with a sword. _Ohhh yeaaah._

_Except I'm going to die first and I'll never know, Maker dang it._

'_What, giving up already, Herald?'_ a voice sounding suspiciously like Cassandra spoke up in her – clearly – delirious brain. '_You're unlikely to find out the colour of the Commander's underpants lying in the snow.'_

_Yeah. I _know _that, Cass._

'_Either way, it'd make a heckuva epitaph,' _another voice – this time uncannily like Varric - mocked her.

'_Phst, what kind of a man wears underpants anyway?' _What? Dorian too? '_Real men don't wear that sort of thing…Not unless it's edible.'_

'_Elves invented edible underpants…Humans stole the idea from us, did you know?' _

Audria groaned. Not Solas too. Oh Maker help her she wasn't ever going to be able to look the man in the face ever again.

'_Edible elven underpants?' _scoffed Iron Bull's voice also in her head because clearly no collector's set would be complete without something from _him. _'_I piss on your edible underpants!'_

That comment really did. Not. Help.

"And by the way, can you lot clear out of my head please? You're giving me a migraine!"

'_Pft! Underpants!'_

"Ahurgh…"

'_Never mind, dear. When you're dead you won't actually be in a position to actually care, now will you?'_

Really, if by some miracle she did survive, she was going to walk up to the Knight Enchanter and tell her that hat looked really, really _stupid. _Like the woman had a bat's bottom roosting on her head.

The very thought of being able to insult Vivienne's choice of head wear some day was incentive enough to force Audria to lever herself upright. Or at least, she _thought _it was upright. She wasn't too sure. Well, she was as sure as ever being able to emerge victorious in a war of the words with Vivienne because the woman had a tongue sharper than shattered glass. Which, was to say she had _no _idea. Audria could barely see her hand in front of her face. Heck she couldn't even _feel _her hand anymore and she wouldn't be surprised to find it had snapped off in that last fall.

Where was she?

Oh yes. Librarian Cullen and his big sword.

_Which I'm never going to see because is it me or did this storm just get worse?_

At least, the tiny spark of optimism still existent in her numb body told her, the wind is carrying me onward. Horizontally sure, but at least it was heading in a direction that wasn't…here.

A blob of darkness darker than the other dark darkness loomed suddenly ahead, the squall lifting her and hurling her right into it. There was a sensation of _falling _a very long way, followed by the equally distressing feeling of something hitting her hard. It could have been the ground. It could have been a pile of rocks. She didn't know. What it did feel like was meeting a full charge of a battalion of qunari _head-on_.

A battalion of qunari mounted on stone golems.

Some vague thought tentatively reminded her that she was a mage and if she really, really, _really _wanted to, she could conjure up a jolly good fire to keep herself warm (or at the very least, slightly less rigid with cold), send up a flare to let everyone know she was out here, even cast a protective barrier about herself. A slightly less doolally thought sharply reminded her that she'd expended the last of her mana sorting out that last wave of demons and closing the mini-Breach and the cold was making her brain refuse to remember how to cast any fire spell, much less anything more complex like a barrier. Any lyrium she'd had on her had been expended on the advancing horde of crazed Templars in any case so, no top-ups were an option either.

Besides, since her encounter with Conniption-eus her Mark had been acting funny. Not ha-ha funny because anything from the Maker quite frankly, had no sense of humour, but weird-funny and she didn't trust it to backfire or turn her into a turnip.

More importantly, in order for a mage to use magic – generally speaking – they had to be mostly conscious. Right now, that was a state that was beginning to prove…elusive.

Audria briefly entertained the crazed thought of attempting to roll her way off the mountain like some human snowball, except in order to do that she would have to first _move._

_Okay. I'm not going to die. I'm already dead._

It certainly explained why she wasn't going anywhere, could feel nothing, could see nothing and her thoughts were not exactly…particularly coherent. Fine, they weren't coherent at the best of times, jolly good, let's all have a guffaw at the Herald's expense, ha-ha, who's going to save the world now, eh?

Quite frankly, could things get any worse than they were now? Audria attempted to compile a list in her foggy, uncooperative head:

1\. The Inquisition's base of operations had just been destroyed.

2\. Not only did the Chantry loathe them, but the Chantry's army of Templars – some of the best trained and armed soldiers in _Thedas _– had appeared to ally itself with the _enemy._

3\. Said enemy was an immortal monster of unknown origin with delusions of godhood which it was determined to achieve _at any cost_.

4\. He had a dragon.

5\. A. Bloody. Dragon.

6\. All of the above seriously messed with her designs on the Commander of the Inquisition, a man who was notoriously hard to read unless you made him annoyed and even then all he was willing to acquaint you with was his sword.

7\. That last statement was _not _a euphemism.

8\. Damn it.

9\. Meanwhile demons and horrors continued to pour into the mortal world eating babies and stealing granny sticks.

10\. No one so far had handed her a stiff drink and an offer to make it all go away.

_Sigh._

Light pierced caked eyelids. Audria hadn't even noticed falling asleep, much less the passage of any amount of time. _Ah…the bright light...Shall I go towards it? _That was what you were supposed to do, right? Like a moth towards a candle. Onward into the Fade, which she had to admit was really not full of sunshine, daisies and an unlimited, all-you-can-eat dessert buffet, but an incredibly good reason not to die.

Which…she was beginning to realise, she had not – miracle of miracles – actually…done.

Audria blinked, her eyes stinging in the glare of harsh sunlight. The storm had moved on. It was morning.

She.

Was.

Alive.

_Hah! Take that…whatever it was that nearly did me in…whenever it was going to…ah, I can't keep this up and oh look I appear to have retained all my limbs._

As things went, this counted as a victory in her tired, cold eyes.

_Then…_"Over there! She's over there!"

_Commander Underpants…_

Oh and he looked – actually _looked _– relieved to see her. Like…like…he liked her…or something. Which was good. Really, really, really good. So when she face-planted into the snow for the umpteenth time, it was with happiness and she didn't much care that it hurt like the demon. She was alive. _He _was alive.

And.

"…Corypheus…" she vaguely heard.

"…thank the Maker…"

"…with the dragon and…"

Audria had no idea what they were talking about, nor did she care. All she did care about was the very real possibility of the Commander's underpants (and hopefully the rest of him) being part of her very near future._ Corypheus? _Yeah, _he _could totally hang. No one but _no one _was going to get between her and getting _lucky._

_Ever._

-oo-


End file.
